Peach meditation

Once again, I had one topic in mind and another decided it was going to be written about instead. This morning, I saw a lady in a sensible pencil skirt hanging a sign for a church thing and I had some jealousy and anger because that would never be me because I'm Pagan. It was another reminder that I'm a second-class citizen because I don't get to devote my life to being a clergy person in the same way that the mainstream religions do. There aren't any accredited seminaries that would be appropriate for pagan clergy and there's not sufficient infrastructure to support full-time clergy. Maybe we'll see this in a hundred years, but not today and I hate that. I wanted to be a church lady and a preacher.

But, I have the life that I have. I wouldn't give up my career as a scientist for anything and I'll serve my gods as best as I can in the ways that are available to me.

I'm working right now on redescribing thirty someodd species of butterflies and one new one. After a long day of this where I actually started and finished a description (four to go!), I come home not terribly long before Husband takes Kiddo to dance. This means that I have the house entirely to myself. Considering that I also have two big baskets of peaches to freeze, I thought I'd work on them. Peel, cut, slice, sweeten, freeze. I'm not yet far along in the process, having taken a break to eat one of them.

The house is quiet, so I took this as an opportunity to meditate while slicing peaches. It's really hard to find time to meditate, so I do it while I'm doing other stuff. I meditate while driving, cooking, walking, gardening, and even when visiting the euphemism. Any few minutes I can grab on to my brain, I try to meditate. Now, before you freak out about me meditating and driving, the kind of meditation I do is neither the close your eyes and go "Om" kind nor the kind where I zone out in blissful peace. The kind of meditation I do is actually some hard work, but it helps me keep from turning into the She-Hulk and rage-smashing everything; it keeps my brain in good, healthy, working order.

Awareness meditation is pretty much just what it says on the box, so a driving meditation would include awareness of the sounds of the road, positions of the cars around you, and the interactions between your body and the car. If you were gripping the steering wheel too tightly, you might remember to relax your grip some or you might adjust a little in your seat so you can see your mirrors better. You might even be aware of the thoughts going through your head and letting them pass on by you instead of getting all caught up in your brain like a song on repeat. Put simply, awareness meditation is doing what you're doing while you're doing it.

So, back to my peaches.

And having finished freezing said peaches, back to the blog. There's quite a lot to be aware of while peeling and slicing peaches in a quiet house. There's the position of the knife and the curve of the fruit. This is very important to be aware of. There's also the smell of peaches, my sitting posture, the sound of the dryer going, the occasional movement of a baby still gestating, a few traffic sounds, and the little aches and places where muscles have tensed up. In addition to that, there are the thoughts passing through my head, most of which have nothing to do with peaches, so as those thoughts leave, I think of peaches.

I think of how this is a true labor of love. Simple awareness has turned toward metta practice. Metta means, more or less, "loving-kindness." It's the kind of no-strings-attached love you might feel for a big-eyed purring kitten or a tiny helpless baby because it's a living thing and living things are deserving of love. When you are a kitchen witch, feeding people becomes one of the most powerful acts of love and therefore one of the most powerful acts of magick you can do. By putting back peaches, I'll be feeding my family and helping them thrive and grow.

And here's where we ratchet up the woobie a bit. I'm a Pagan and I love the Earth, so I bought fruit from a local grower who chooses sustainable farming practices. I want the Earth to thrive and grow, too, so I practice metta toward the Earth as well. Good sun, clean rain, and rich earth all help the food to grow. These are the gifts of the gods and I feel so much love and gratitude toward them for that.

It was a good meditation for today. I'd had a bad case of the crankies and to end the day on a note of gratitude and metta is what they call a good thing.

What are you going to do about it?

::sigh::

Awesome in Aviation!
Never married.

I had written most of a post about revising your idea of success, but it got eaten by the internet. I thought about throwing up my hands and giving up on posting something today, but I think I'm too stubborn for that.

This is still a post about success and what that means. Olympic athletes and great inventors have one kind of success, but that's not the kind of success I'm able to aim for. That's not my arete. I can't give up parts of my life to focus intensely on success at one thing. My kind of arete is to continually try to improve my skill at being a human being, to be the best kind of mom I can be, to be the best priestess I can be, and to do my best work when I'm doing science. My attention is divided, but I'm not sorry about it.

I wouldn't give this up for the world.

I've always wanted to be a scientist and a mom. Well done, me! Being a priestess was an unexpected surprise, but I'm not sorry about that, either. It helps me be a better mom, a better scientist, and a better human being.

In order to improve my skill at all of these things, it's important for me to remember that when I am feeling ennui or having some difficulty or another that sitting and bitching about it does nothing. Doing something, even if that something is "just" prayer, is the only way to get through that. Michael Phelps didn't get to be an Olympian athlete by crying in his beer when things were hard, he got up and swam and then he swam some more. Orville and Wilbur went, literally, back to the drawing board when things didn't work out.

Gratuitous picture of flowers in my garden
for no reason other than they're pretty.

I was having ennui and was worried about not having worked enough on all of the things, but remembered that I'm an Action!priestess. If I feel bad, I need to do something about it. Am I eating right, resting enough, have I had enough water, would a cuppa coffee or a couple Tylenol help, is there something I can do to fix the problem? And this is how I minister to others on the rare occasions I'm asked to put my priestess hat on. I'm not great at listening to other people talk about their feelings. I admit that it makes me a little uncomfortable because I don't know what to do with emotions. So, I'll ask the other person, "What can you do about it?" and "What have you done about it?"

"Nothing" is not a great answer. I rarely accept it from myself or others. If the problem is "I haven't been knitting," the answer is "Well, knit then, if you're able." If the problem is "I'm tired," the answer is "rest." There is always something you can do, even if you can't see it right away. To quote the David Wilcox song "Down Inside Myself"

Hey the cure is very simple
And it works in half an hour
Get some sleep, eat some broccoli
Run a mile, take a shower

For me, I tend to ask myself, "Would a nap, a couple Tylenol, a bite to eat, and/or a cup of coffee help?" Often, the answer is "yes." So, have you been down about something? Dismayed? Dejected? Other words that start with D? What are you going to do about it? Do you have a checklist of easy things to do that might help?

Faster, Higher, Stronger

I love the Olympics. Every couple years, athletes from around the world gather together for peaceful competition in order to show the best of what they can do. Yes, there are problems associated with how the IOC handles things and no, it's not always in the most moral or ethical way. Ideally, we could hold the games without hardship or difficulty, but I have no good solution and I'm not in charge of these things.

I love the Olympics because I firmly believe that striving for excellence in whatever you put your mind to is the ultimate praise to the Gods and because at no other time is a flame raised before the eyes of a billion people in honor of the King of Gods and in the name of peace. The IOC doesn't think of it that way. Most of the people watching and most of the athletes don't think of it that way, but for me, this is all for Zeus and it won't ever not be.

Her first knitting at four-years-old.

I won't be knitting this year but for a row or two a day on the baby blanket I've been working on. My wrists can't take more than that, but Iris has started a washcloth with a hummingbird on. It was a last-minute decision and I hope she decides to follow through if for no other reason than to see what she can do when she tries her very best. This year, I'm the coach.

This is my body

One of the hot topics around the Pagan blogosphere right now is health in the Pagan community, obesity in particular. The Wild Hunt links these and a few more in last Saturday's link roundup, so feel free to sift through these if you like. I've read through some of these... okay, so I skimmed them and I've decided that I'm not going to talk about obesity at all. Well, maybe a little, but in neither an "OBESITY IS EPIDEMIC, AHMAHGAARRD!!" nor a "NOOOOO, STOP DA FAT SHAMING!" way. This is much more than a binary thing.

I'm a small person. I've always been a small person. When I was in utero, the doc thought I was going to be a late September baby, but no. I was and still am just smallish. Even with the expanding tummy and the chest jugs that have upgraded to more than their usual half-gallon size, I'm still pretty small. I've been slender my whole life and, for the most part, it's not from diet or exercise. I don't even try. I'm just that way.

Me at my 30th birthday. I always wanted a Logan's Run party.

But there is a thing that happens to some of the women in our family. As the decades pass, we get chunky and heart and blood pressure problems start making themselves more obviously known. I'm not saying there's any causality there, just that those things happen concurrently. My mom is very similar in body type to me and these days she's wearing larger pants and taking blood pressure medication. This is partly genetic. Having native blood ain't always pow-wows and great cheekbones. It's also extra wisdom teeth and a tendency toward diabetes and heart problems. (I didn't have the extra teeth, but my brother did.)

As my mother would say, I want to live long enough to be a burden on my children. A heart attack or other major health problems are not whatchacall gonna help me get to that goal. Additionally, I'm a priestess of Apollo. His descendants include Asklepios, Hygeia, Panacea and the entire medical profession. The Hippocratic Oath mentions each one of these deities in its original form and taking this oath has marked the beginning of a physicians career since the late 5th century BCE. The modern version doesn't include these gods and is not required by most medical schools, but I don't think they could remove the spirit of Apollo from it.

Here's a little bit of a tangent, but we'll come back around, I promise.
Hippocrates of Kos was probably trained at the asklepeion there, the asklepeion being a healing house and temple to Asklepios, son of Apollo and Koronis. He is credited with the idea that illness and disease are naturally caused rather than caused by the gods. I'd wager that the theory is a little more layered and nuanced than that, given that Hippocrates seems to have been a believing man. Prayers to the gods are prescribed in certain particular cases in the Hippocratic Corpus and even though it's an exception to a rule, it's a notable exception. I can't tell you much about what Hippocrates himself believed, but as a woman of science, I think I kind of understand this mode of thinking. Everything does have a natural cause, including disease. We understand that natural cause to be everything from bacteria and viruses to environmental factors, to genetics, and so on. So, when someone is sick or injured we can either trace the illness or injury to its source or assume that there is a physical source of some kind, even if we don't know what that is. That said, I also believe that the gods are connected to the natural world, often in ways we don't understand. If a flu epidemic comes through, I know that the source is a virus that came from somewhere, but I'm also not going to say that Apollo isn't involved.

Hakuna Fritatta... actually, I suppose that's a quiche, isn't it?

So, coming back around, this post is about excellence. Devotion to my god means getting the most out of this life that I can and doing my best to be skilled at having this body. I've seen members of my local and regional community make poor health choices and I've made poor health choices myself. As a priestess, I feel that it's my responsibility to help others make better choices either by example or by direct teaching. This idea is an integral part of our Midsummer celebration when we have backyard games to honor Apollo. Being a worthy vessel for my god is why I try to eat really really healthy and exercise as appropriate. We try to serve healthy foods at our gatherings and hootenannies. My skinny ass needs that as much as anybody.

It's not really enough to say "How very sad so many of us are fat" and to give statistics on obesity and health problems. In fact, don't. It's not helpful. We who are leaders in our communities need to both examine our own health choices, make positive changes where we can in our own lives, and make positive changes where we can in things like feast preparation and by offering classes on healthy choices. Not because some of our fellows are fat, but to help all those who want to be healthier whatever their size and medical history may be.

Oh, for Pete's sake, it's a goldurned hat.

The "debate" continues on the subject of what in the beans veiling "symbolizes" and I keep falling for the internet troll traps. This is a bridge and I am a goat. Shame on me. Someone is always wrong on the internet and I need to disengage.

Since this is my blog, I'm still going to talk about it here. It's pissing me off and this is a good place for me to talk about the things that make me want to turn green, grow to five times my normal size, and smash stuff. (I would be a smallish She-Hulk by Hulk standards, but still quite capable of smashing.)

I've heard all these arguments before, mostly from people like this:

These are photos from news coverage about the Islamic Center of Murfreesboro and I would bet you two shiny pennies that every single one of these ignorant rednecks would call themselves a Christian.

The ICM is just up the road apiece from me and I've been involved in helping them fight for religious freedom since this whole business started. As a Pagan, I know that when one minority group is bullied by the majority, we all become second-class citizens. If we'd decided to build a Pagan center, this could have very easily have been us.

One of the excellent things that's come out of this is that I have made friends that I never would have made before and learned so much about Muslims and Islam. I was even able to host the imam at one of our gatherings so that he could talk about his faith. Several people arrived skeptical and a little nervous, but left knowing a little more and feeling a little more at peace with our Muslim neighbors.

Like us, they're just folks who want to practice their religion. Like us, people get all kinds of ideas about what their religion is and what the associated symbols mean. So, it really pisses me off when Pagans, of all people, start sounding like the ignorant rednecks pictured above. We should know better than that. And yet there are those yahoos that do not, apparently, know better. I keep hearing about how the hijab is a symbol of oppression.

No. It's a goldurned hat. It's a piece of fabric some people put on their heads. Any meaning beyond that has been made up in your brain. Even those who wear it have applied their very own meaning to it. I could choose to wear a five-pointed star with a circle around it and there are some people who would make some pretty horrible assumptions about what that means. I know what it means to me, but when you get down to it, it's a star with a circle around it. Any meaning beyond that has been made up in your brain.

Now I know "symbols have power" blah, blah, blah "swastika." But the same principle applies. The swastika is a shape and the meaning applied to it comes out of the brain of whomever is looking at it. That meaning comes from a person's knowledge and experience, but has no more "rightness" to it than the other guy's meaning who has completely different knowledge and set of experiences. I'm not advocating swastika usage because the meaning I personally apply to it is a really scary one. And when these guys use it, they're pretty clear about what they mean by it:

Illinois Nazis

But this veers waaaay off topic. (Hello, straw man!) The fact remains that if a lady so chooses to wear some fabric on her head, she shouldn't have to be subject to verbal abuse, social stigma, or violence. Period. The end.

Where my tichel at?

What I put on my head is my own business.

I've been a part-time wearer of things on my head for some time now. Here's photographic evidence from about eight years ago and somewhere I have a photo of me from some time in the early 90's where I'm wearing a similar bandana as a kerchief. I've just moved, so I have no idea where that photo is.

Here's me wearing a hat:

A rather fuzzy picture of me doing dishes or something:











And here's me looking pretty snazzy before I go do a science outreach thing.

When I cover my head, it might be for a number of reasons-- none of which you would know unless you asked me. I do so because my hair isn't doing what I want it to, because it looks nice, because it's comfortable, because it keeps the sun off my head, because I'm cold, because I'm praying, because I want to express humility in the presence of my gods, and, most importantly:

BECAUSE I DAMN WELL PLEASE TO

As a Pagan, I don't have any written text that compels me to cover my head and even my dear Muslim friends who cover do so because they've made the choice to do so. I've "met" Christian and non-theist women online who choose to cover for various reasons and the nice Mennonite ladies that make the excellent fried pies at the Franklin Farmer's Market wear the little white kapps that I could never pull off. I've never asked why. I just buy my fried pie and say "Thank you." We've all made the choice to put a thing on our heads. We do it on purpose and for a wide variety of reasons. Which you wouldn't know unless you asked.

And yet, there are those who would be hostile and violent to a woman who decides to put a thing on her head. Hence the First International Covered in Light Day. Since this was first posted, there have been a number of individuals who have spoken out against the idea of covering, suggesting all sorts of ridiculous things like that it's a symbol of oppression or some other such codswallop. Do I seem oppressed to you? Ask me and I will tell you how not oppressed I am. Ask some of the Muslim ladies I know and they will also tell you how not oppressed they are. Talk to them for five minutes and you will believe that they are in charge of things. They will probably also feed you. Try the baklava; it's amazing.

Supporting women who cover is about freedom of choice. No person should feel pressured, shamed, or bullied into adopting a mode of dress that they don't want to adopt. Just as my heart goes out to those who are forced to cover when they don't want to, I feel compassion for those who are disallowed from doing so when they feel compelled by their belief and conscience to cover. The nice people at Covered in Light put it much better and Mrs. B over at Confessions of a Pagan Soccer Mom was likewise much more polite than I'm willing to be on this matter. Mrs. B also has some lovely pictures of covering in ancient times.

The only time that I've seen someone who covers being treated like a second-class citizen is by ignorant rednecks who have a wrong idea about who and what that person is. I've seen too much hostility firsthand to put up with this and I won't tolerate it from the so-called "Christians" up the street and I won't tolerate it from Pagans.

I'd already decided to cover today (my hair-- what is it even doing?), but now I'm mad and am doing it on purpose with intention. If you want to give me some bullshit reason why I shouldn't, the complaining area is out the back door. Discuss it with the deer.

No pictures just now, I'm afraid, but I did want to check in and let you know I'm still alive. I'm at the Entomological Society of America meeting in Reno right now and not on my laptop proper. I did manage to get some pictures with Bug Girl, so I hope to post them when I get back. I've also managed to get lots of video of entomologists sending messages to the high school kids I'm working with, so I'm excited to post those as well. I'm wondering, having been inspired by Bug Girl, if it would be a good thing to start an entomologically-themed blog. I'm not sure my attention span is good enough or what my message is, but I do like bugs and I do like science outreach. I'll give it a think anyway. I've connected with so many people at this meeting, not only through entomology, but through knitting as well. I'm working on a pair of socks, as one does at these things, (okay, as I do) and have been able to encourage several people to pick up the craft or pick it up again. I've talked about the benefits of knitting and the devaluing of traditionally female crafts. I didn't want to go to this meeting at first. There's so much I could have gotten done at home, but this really has been valuable for me. All the same, I can't wait to get back.

Proud, but not prideful

You can tell this isn't Kansas because it's in color.

One of the first full garments I ever sewed by myself was a Wednesday Addams dress for Halloween one year and I still have it in my closet. Mom helped, of course, but she claims it's all my work and I can't help but be a little proud of it.

I made the above dress for Iris in '04 and the pattern is more fiddly than it looks, but that there is Dorothy Gale's dress. It's a licensed pattern, so it's the official Wizard of Oz Dorothy dress. I even compared it to the movie to make sure it was right and not some half-baked approximation.

There's been a Halloween costume dry spell the past few years and I've partly been thankful for it. Grad school occupies my brain like the 99% on Wall St., only it's been going on for much longer and I'm more willing to give into its demands. She's been wearing the costumes from her dance recitals and it's great she gets some additional use from them, but every year she doesn't ask me to make something for her, I feel a little bit like a kicked puppy.

Maybe that's silly, but in my head Mama is supposed to make the Halloween costumes. That's part of what a good mama does and it's one of the parts I really like. I like making something for the offspring that she's excited to wear and while I've made her lots of clothes, a Halloween costume is special.

Anyway, it's that time of year again and much to my relief, she's asked me to make her a fairy costume. She wanted a skirt and I suggested a vest to help hold up her wings. First, she wanted to be a woodland fairy and I'm thinking, "Browns and greens - no problem." I even found a camo that might have worked very well for such a thing. Unfortunately, she changed her mind in the fabric store. She wanted to be a rainbow fairy instead and no, there was no way to change her mind.

Sassy!

We got the last bit of a rainbow striped quilter's cotton and it was perfect. In fact, I think this is some of my best work. The black panel has a black lace layered in front of the cotton to give it a little opacity and it makes the other colors really grab your retinas and smack 'em around a bit. Both of the black fabrics were stash. Pro tip: Children grow. Measure them before you cut fabric to make a garment. Sure, you may have measured them last week, but they probably grew last night. I must admit to inserting this panel because I failed to measure the kiddo before cutting. It turned out to be a happy accident.

The closure is an invisible zipper and hook-and-eye, but the waistband has elastic in it to allow for growth of said kiddo. She should be able to wear it for a couple more inches of tummy growth. That might be a month or a couple years-- it's hard to say. Anyway, it fits perfectly, drapes well, the zipper looks great, and it the whole garment is the exact perfect thing for her. Not to mention that she loves it and is excited to wear it for Halloween. The part I'm really proud of is that I made this entirely without a pattern. I made it with maths from my brain.

I feel like a good mom again and that here's something that's as it should be. I feel talented and competent. I feel proud.

...but not prideful. I thank Athene for granting me skill with a needle, I thank Bekah for being a good influence in the use of references, I thank Iris for asking me to make this for her, I thank the Kindergarten teacher who suggested I learn to sew, and most of all, I thank my mom for teaching me.

It's not because I don't love you

Support Public Radio: They don't yell at you in the morning.

I'm continuing apace with handkerchief production, having finished one with a pine branch, one with the chemical structure of serotonin and the words "Serotonin: get happy!" and another one with initials on. I've got another with initials in the queueue...ue..ue and have plans to coffee dye one and stitch the chemical structure for caffeine in brown.

Anyway, I hope this ennui passes, though with October being fully itself and November looming on the horizon, I remain unconvinced. At least some stitching of some kind is getting done.

I've also got a Halloween costume to sew for a little girl and more presents to make than I really have time to make. If you don't get anything from me this year, it's not because I don't love you.

In other news, fall break for Iris and the school I'm working at has ended, so it's back to work for me tomorrow. Additionally, I just got the window on my Volvo fixed and it cost nearly as much as the car. (Say it with me: "Cheaper than a car payment. Cheaper than a car payment..." It's the cash-payer's mantra.) I managed to fix the fuel door myself and the head liner is high up on my list next to the trim piece that came unglued. That is, barring any unforeseen circumstances (Hephaestos forbid!). Lastly, husband's birthday is on Tuesday. Incidentally, it's also National Coming Out Day.

There's a lot going on here

Last night, Bubby and I went to a show on campus for an evening of free entertainment. We were up a little later than usual, so she's still sacked out in bed, but we had a grand time. She has had a deep fascination with China for some time now, so when I dropped her off for Chinese lessons last time, they gave us tickets to Song of Silk. The show was a mix of dance, music, and theater from many different regions of China, including a yak dance from Tibet. Her favorite part was the fan dance, but they had a demonstration of several instruments that was also very cool. There's one called the suona that can, apparently, hold its own with a set of bagpipes.

No lie. They didn't need a microphone for it. There were, sadly, no bagpipes or men in kilts last night, but we did see a dude in a fabulous hat.

We also saw a lady play the pipa, which I have dubbed the Chinese banjo. This video is of the lady we saw playing the same song we heard last night.

I would love to hear the pipa and the banjo together. That would make my day.

In other news, I haven't been doing much knitting lately. My knitting mojo has wandered off to Bermuda and is probably sipping mojitos and making a lovely scarf. If you see it, send it home, willya?

I did manage to finish a pair of circle socks (Ravelry link) and have been doing a fair bit of embroidery as well. I finished a couple of for-sale hankies and have lately been working on gift hankies for the menfolk I know and am related to. This is in preparation for the winter holiday season and I fear that I'm just not going to be able to finish all my making this year. I'm not sure I ever do, but I've been quite busy lately and having difficulty finding time that isn't occupied by something - mostly somethings that are not conducive to knitting. I've also lost my needle gauge, which makes the whole process a little more frustrating.

I'm sure that my knitting mojo will eventually miss me and come back home, hopefully with my needle gauge, and I can commence to knitting again. In the mean time, here are some pictures of recently embroidered hankies.

This one is just some freehand vines and leaves. I'd planned some kind of trumpet flower to go with, but decided to leave it as-is.

 

To the left we see poppies, a fairly common theme in embroidery. To the right and on the opposite corner of the same hanky is the chemical structure for morphine.

The biggest trick lately is balancing all of the things and doing them as well as is reasonably expected. I think I'm doing okay at it, actually, but I do miss knitting. I am deciding to take comfort in the fact that I'm not unproductive, I'm just productive in different areas of my life.

Relax, Cupcake!

Kirk's Cupcake

So, this is not actually a picture of my husband. It's not far off, though.

I know this will come as a shock to all of you, but Husband and I are pretty big in the Star Trek geek department. One of us writes fanfic, one of us plays STO, and between the both of us, we could tell you just about anything from TOS to the most recent movie.

There's nothing sexier than a big nerdy guy who's trained in take-down techniques and knows what you mean when you say your gaming group is going to be on an Akira-class ship in the new Trek campaign. Yeah, that's nerdiness to the nth degree, I tell you what.

My Cupcake

This is Husband. You'll note he's got more hair up top. I kinda miss the beard, which he has since shaved off. sigh What a handsome guy.

Anyway, enough of that nonsense. The stress that always comes this time of year when school starts and there are a hundred different things gearing up has finally begun to subside. It's also the middle of Birthdaypalooza here at the house, mine having just passed, the little one's being tomorrow, and the big man's coming up in October.

Making cake is fun and it's not often that I decide to really do it up bigtime. Really, Chekov/Sulu-related fic fests and Bubby's birthday are about it. Now, I'm not a gourmet cupcake-making person, I don't have much in the way of specialty equipment, but my artist's heart likes to come out and play with color, no matter what the medium may be.

We started with Pillsbury "Funfetti" cake batter because that's what she wanted and then dropped in some food coloring until it was just the right shade of pale blue-green. Now, I never can get quite two dozen out of a box mix and, being that there are 21 kids in her class and her teacher deserves a cupcake, too, I had to make the full two dozen. I ended up cracking open my trusty Joy of Cooking and flipped to a quickie cake recipe. In this case, "quickie" means that we used the 'lectric mixer. Y'know, like "quickie" mashed potatoes.

With food, it can be good or it can be fast. Rarely is it both.

Anyway, I whipped that up and voilá! More than enough batter! I actually made sixteen more cupcakes than were needed. They were slightly flatter than their box-cake counter parts, but that could have been easily fixed. I think I was a little batter-stingy toward the end, there. I'm particularly pleased that when I tried one of the surplus, it was soft and fluffy and cake-like where my previous homemade cake attempts had been...

...dense.

Birthday Cupcakes

Those are cupcake-flavored goldfish on the top and I was quite pleased how the combination of blue and green decorating spray made a lovely sea green/ocean blue. That stuff is amazing and I feel like a dang genius.

In the interest of full disclosure, Little Bit did most of the box-cake mixing and baking, reading the instructions, measuring, and putting the first batch in the oven. The only thing I did was mix while she very carefully added food coloring and measure out batter into cups. Bedtime came before decorating time, but she could have done all of this herself. I'm proud of how self-sufficient she is becoming and while baking cupcakes isn't an essential life skill, knowing how to read and interpret recipe directions (or any kind of directions) is. With these tools, I don't have to worry whether she'll be able to feed herself good food when she grows up. Whether she chooses to is another matter; at least she'll be able to.

Today has been quite relaxing, as was yesterday. I actually spent some time on the Echo Flowers shawl (which Little Bit is convinced is going to be hers) and carding and spinning some hand-dyed wool. It's beet/curry flavored, which makes for an exciting orangey color. I'm a little excited to try out some cream of tartar/alum mordant for my next batch involving some shriveled-up beets in my crisper. I had intended to try to make a further dent in the llama, but did this instead. I needed the break.

I needed the break from school and from all the responsibilities that seem to pile up quicker than compost at a commune and I had that opportunity today. I hope this will allow me to face the coming weeks with renewed strength. I think it will.

I did it myself

Yesterday was lovely and relaxing. I spent most of the morning with good friends, then went out with the offspring to get a couple zippers and to look at birthday-related things. Though I'd planned to finish up at least one of the skirts I'd started to make for her, I got on a crayon-making kick. You see, I've wanted to make new crayons from old since I was a wee one and when Crayola finally came out with a crayon maker, I was thrilled and went right out and bought one. Unfortunately, the mold wasn't very sturdy and crumbled after a while (several years, I think) and there aren't any replacements, so I can't make crayon-shaped crayons anymore. I had an idea that one might take candy molds instead, so I thought I'd give it a try. Blending colors is a little different with this process and in order to get the streaks and swirls that the original crayon maker made, you have to start with a base color and add shavings and other bits of color after the hot wax is poured into the mold. It helps if the wax is good and hot so it melts the shavings on contact. If you were to try this at home, only use low heat and good crayon pieces. Crayola and Rose Art are fine, but I wouldn't use anything else.

The results were great! The only difficulty I have now is that I haven't got enough crayon pieces. If ever there was an indication that I need to color more, that's it.

 My other Sunday project was to finally replace the taillights on my car. Generally, I like to have someone else do car maintenance and repair for me, but I had the utmost confidence I could do it. The hardest part was remembering which wires went where and putting the bulbs back in. They're a little fussy, but I eventually managed. It turns out that there's this vast underworld of people who restore Volvos. Who knew? At any rate, this means that I can the parts I need and short of anything that requires me to take parts of the engine out, I can fix things on my car. Woo! Next on my list is the head liner fabric and any of the bits of missing trim I can find. I can even get a replacement hinge for the little door that goes over the gas cap.

Look at that butt

I'm certain there are professionals that could have done a much better job of it, but the brake lights and turn signals all function and it looks a hundred percent better than before. Throwing out the old lights was cathartic and I've been walking around with my head a little higher ever since. Sure, it wasn't a major job, but it was my job and I did it myself.

I don't look good in yellow anyway

So, the Tour de Fleece is over and while I didn't finish the llama, I did make a decent-sized dent in it. Mind you, I haven't been as gung-ho about the Tour de Fleece as I get about the Olympics and I've been distracted by shiny objects, but I did participate.


I think that, for the rest of the month, I shall focus on WIPs. I've got several now that are just kind of waiting in the wings for me to work on them. To be quite truthful, I've been neglectful of almost everything lately. I haven't been exercising, working in the lab, doing housework, or doing very many of my fiber-related projects. I'm only just now catching up and starting to do housework again and I'm planning to go into the lab today. Right now, I think I'm going to wake the sleeping offspring and knit some lace.

Running to Stand Still

The past couple of weeks I've been doing training for the fellowship I'm on and it's left me pretty much wrung-out and exhausted. I hadn't seen my family much and haven't been doing the things I love to do, let alone the things I have to do to maintain the upkeep of the house. Let's not even talk about the research. My poor butterflies remain neglected in their drawers.

Also, my keyboard and mouse are acting up, but I can't get a new one 'til next paycheck. Pff

I did manage to finish the watermelon socks and get started on sock #2 of the circle socks. I forget who I'm making them for, but it's not for me. I think they're for a women's size six, but I'm having trouble remembering who wears that size shoe. The solution will present itself, I'm sure.

As for the Tour de Fleece, I think I might be starting to make a dent in the llama, but I've not been spinning or carding every day. It's a little bit catch as catch can, but I'm finally getting through the lightest part of the fleece and will be moving on to the brown bits. I'm still not sure what I'm going to do with the finished product, but I'm thinking woven blanket.

I did get my iPad in the mail last week and I'm absolutely loving the thing. I have no fewer than three ways to take notes or make lists of things and a game with cutie little froggies that I've been obsessively playing.

With any luck, I'll update again this Sunday - maybe even with pictures!

Love imposes impossible tasks

As you may or may not know, we have just begun the Tour de Fleece and the challenge I have chosen to accept is probably on par with a 3600km bicycle race. I have decided to card and spin the box o' llama, heretofore known as "The Beast." I will tackle the Beast, carding and spinning until I have defeated it and it has become yarn. I'm not sure I'll make it, but I've got to try. The fate of... uh, The fate of all future yarns depends on it! (Yeah, that's it!)

A challenge is no fun if it's easily done. This is why I participate in the Knitting Olympics and with the volume of fiber in my possession, joining the Tour de Fleece was only necessary to tackle the Beast. Whether I finish or not, I'll at least manage to make a dent in the thing and that is worth it. It's a good thing I love spinning yarn.

I recently set forth a challenge for people to post their positive interfaith stories and so far, so good! Here in the South, it is a particular challenge to have positive conversations about religion, but it is possible. No matter where you live, you can be an agent of peace and awesomeness. You can reach out your hand to another person and if you proceed with love and peace, you'll eventually find someone who will shake your hand.

Love imposes impossible tasks,
but no more than any heart asks

Spin wool, talk to people. Exceedingly simple, yet surprisingly difficult, but by rising to meet these challenges, we become better people. We find that impossible tasks can be overcome and that they're not so impossible after all.

Many will enter, only one will win

I have no pictures today because yesterday was spent running around in my best friend's backyard and I'm sure everyone is sore today. I know I am, but not as much as the ones who did the three-mile walking race, then the sprint shortly thereafter.

Pro tip: stretch before and after.

I've been slacking off a bit in the needled arts in preparation for this weekend's Midsummer Games and hopefully I can get some pictures to share. I was busy refereeing, but that's fun for me. My favorite is the part at the end of the day when everyone falls over, exhausted, and says "Man, that was fun!" The prize was just a cheesy plastic gold medal, but there are bragging rights that went with it. Amongst this lot, we had eight pies and six cooks who thought his or hers was the best one. Eight pies enter. One pie leaves. The Twister competition was just epic and even the kids had a great time. Iris did very well and the best friend's middlest child also did quite well. Her youngest ended up not winning anything, but he did finish the three miles and I'm very proud of him for that. He's not quite there when it comes to being okay with his personal best, but he's got good parents that will help him get there.

I'm so, so proud of when he tried and I hated seeing him upset, but not everyone can win. It's more important, really, to do your personal best and if your personal best is better than your competitors' personal best, then great! If not, that's okay, too. You're not going to get a cheesy plastic medal for it, but you'll know you put forward all you could and really, there's so much you can learn from loss. There are those parents who would hand out trophies to their kids for just showing up, but the truth is that this just makes adults who expect rewards for having a pulse. We don't become skilled without challenges and without learning how to win and lose, we won't learn how to deal with both gain and loss and we lose our impetus to increase our skill. Why become skilled if you're going to be given a trophy for showing up?

Anyway, I have ideas and plans for next year. We raised about $10 for the National Kidney Foundation to honor a dear friend of ours that passed this time last year. It isn't much, but it's $10 more than there was before, so that's a win, too. One of my biggest hopes is not only that our local community strives for the best of what they can do, but also makes a habit of charitable giving. After all, what you give really does come right back to you.

Focus, dude.

 
I finally managed to make my blackberry cobbler. I almost don't want to eat it, it's so pretty. I don't know how it tastes yet, but for a first attempt at cobbler, this looks pretty darn good and my confidence is high for the peach season. I have very fond memories of blackberry cobbler and I can't help but think of my Mamaw. She had blackberry bushes upon which the best blackberries on the planet grew and would sometimes make a cobbler from them.
    
This one consists of a little over a quart of blackberries from the market, sweetened with a little honey, and a little cornstarch and water added for thickening. On top is a basic biscuit dough, made in the manner of drop biscuits so as to be a little more fluid and less stiff than roll-em-out biscuits. Combine fruit, honey, cornstarch and water, and pour into 8" baking dish. Make up biscuit dough, drop onto the top of the berry mixture, and bake at 425ºF for 30 minutes.
I try to live my life in bits and pieces, taking it not one day at a time but one moment in time. It keeps me sane and keeps me from getting too wrapped up in thinking about the future or the past. There are times when I get distracted from this and last night was one of those times. Caught up in my own thoughts last night, I locked the door and turned off the lights to get ready for bed and instead of giving my eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, I just walked toward my bed like I knew where I was going. I walked smack into a wall so hard that I saw stars and fell on my butt. I'm pretty sure I did some damage to my nose, which bled some last night, is bruised today, and hurts when I chew. We can make pretty dumb mistakes when we're distracted. Last Thursday, I backed into a dude's truck and busted out my taillight. He was parked illegally, but I was once again caught up in my own thoughts and not paying as close attention as I otherwise would have. It's the typical absentminded professor schtick, caught up in thinking so much that worldly concerns such as the location of giant red trucks and solid walls tend to fall to the wayside. Such was the case with the accidental blueberry pie as well. I try not to dwell on these mistakes too much because doing dumb things is a part of being human. 

Moments come and go. They're transitory by their very nature, but they can be pretty awesome as well. Here's another example of pied beauty from the balcony garden and it's not going to be around for very long, but I'm sure enjoying it while it's here.

I've mostly got plain orange ones in the garden, which I enjoy, but I'm also loving how each of these yellow and red ones is completely unique in size and color pattern. I have no idea how many or which genes are at work here, but the result makes me clap my hands in giddy exaltation of the wonders of nature! This one seems to be somewhat dwarfed at about half the size of a normal bloom, but the colors are bright and cheerful. We'll just call it "fun sized," shall we?

Lace knitting is one of those things that requires concentration, but that can still be taken in bits and pieces, moment by moment, stitch by stitch. This is not an easy form of meditation, but I am told that meditation is best when it doesn't work perfectly. I finished another repeat today and had to tink and adjust more times than I care to admit, but still managed to get through the several rows to earn my "finished a repeat" sticker. This was a case of concentrate or completely mess up; there was no in-between. Do or do not; there is no try.

Even though I've lost my focus several times this week, I don't fear that I'm losing it completely. It's just work to keep it up, is all.

Today I'd intended to make a blackberry cobbler, but ended up making a rather soupy blueberry pie. I'd meant to blanch the blueberries for a few seconds so that I could freeze them, but instead steamed the crap out of them. I recovered them as best as I could, made a crust, and put them into a pie. It's not my best work, but it still tasted like blueberry pie.

Iris was helping to make biscuits this morning and too much goat milk went in, so we ended up with drop biscuits instead of roll-'em-out biscuits. They turned out very fluffy and good.

Many people say that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I say that lemons are inevitable. Learning to make lemonade from them requires a bit of time and effort, but it's well worth it. So I overcooked my blueberries instead of steam-blanching them. Maybe next time I'll pay better attention. Okay, so this blueberry pie wasn't my best work. Maybe I can make the filling thicker next time. So my biscuit dough wasn't firm enough to roll out. So what. We had tasty drop biscuits instead.

I've decided that "Inevitable Lemons" is our next band name.

"Screaming Names" is also a pretty good band name and behind it is a pretty good band as well. (Nice segue, Jess!) I went out with Husband to a show at The Pond in Franklin and was delighted to see our dear friend Randy, the one responsible for helping Husband and I get together. We saw Randy's good friend Miss Lolly Pop as last night's MC for the Saturday Night Special, a "Brolesque" show by Meat and Three, and the comedian, Mr. Peter Depp. A good time was had by all. I wish I had more than a Facebook page for the event, but there it is anyway.

I did manage to turn the heel and start the gusset on my watermelon socks during the show and, of course, Randy sniggered at my knitting the whole time. If I'd have been clever, I'd have brought my camera to take pictures of the sock with these wonderful performers, but no. I was not so clever. The sock, the Husband, and I had a fantastic time anyway.

Glory be to God for dappled things

Pied beauty

One of the most fun things about my garden is that it's a genetic crapshoot. I collect seeds wherever I might find them and then see what comes up the next year. Each flower that blooms or plant hat bears fruit is a surprise and I can see why Gregor Mendel would be fascinated by how this works. Sometimes I'll get plain orange or yellow ones and sometimes I get funky blotched or striped ones. Who knows what the progeny of this flower will look like! The marigolds are starting to really bloom now and I get giddy over every one of them.

We had omelets and hash browns for dinner one night last week because Bubby requested breakfast for dinner. She had originally requested omelets and eggs, but we decided that it would be redundant. I am happy to report, however that there are finally tomatoes at the Farmer's market! They're not as good as they will be in a couple weeks, but they were okay.

Along with Spaghetti Sunday, we've also been making biscuits on Sunday morning. I am, of course, teaching Bubby how.

Growing up, I thought that everyone knew how to cook and that biscuits were a basic staple food that every mother or grandmother could make. I had no idea that there were parts of the world that were deprived of fluffy breadly goodness and that biscuits would just always kind of be there.

Of course, in order for them to continue being there, we must continue to make them and I hope that this little one will pass on the skill at some point in her life. I'm not afraid of biscuit-making dying out or anything, but it does happen to be part of my culture and I would be remiss if I didn't pass it along. I'm still improving at it myself, partly because I'm using butter and goat's milk instead of shortening and buttermilk, but they turn out quite tasty.

It's a work in progress, but perhaps I'll get it by the time I'm a granny.

This week, I used Hatcher's Dairy unsalted butter and Noble Springs goat's milk. They were a little flat, but still good and I think that if I kneaded them a little less and rolled them out a little thicker, they'd have been perfect. It's possible they needed a skosh more flour, too.

All in all they were a biscuit success, in spite of their moderate flatness.

In other news, I worked on some piecing this week as well, mainly playing with color more than pattern. I ended up with twenty-eight six-inch squares, twenty-five of which I suppose will be about a lap-sized quilt when it's done.  I'm not sure what I'll do with it, but I think it will be pretty all the same. The other three squares were odds and ends that I'll make into potholders.

I am having some guilt over not having finished Iris's quilt. The only thing to be done about that, of course, is to work on it, but either my motivator's busted or I've just got too much going on. I suspect the latter.

Pot holders are my short attention span quilting and piecing. They use up scraps and I can make something quick, pretty, and useful. This is a series of ladybug pot holders all but one of which I'm going to put up in the shop when I update. Iris claimed the center one, which had a "flaw" in it. The red plaid square wasn't big enough, so I pieced one. I don't consider it a flaw, really because she ended up liking it because it wasn't like the other ones. Like the marigolds, it was funky and different, which made it cool and desirable. So, she decided she wanted this instead of her usual income for doing a good job on her room this week. I was happy to oblige. I am thrilled whenever she takes a liking to something I've made.

So, of course, she wants me to make her more things. This thing is not for her. This one is for me. I'm not even through the first repeat of the lotus blossom tank and I have a niggling worry about gauge and fit.

I tend to be a "product" knitter rather than a "process" knitter, so of course I want this to be functional and to fit. We'll see how it works out. I'm trying to be mindful about knitting this one in the hopes that I can enjoy the process as much as the potential product.

Nothing is perfect. My marigolds are splotchy, my biscuits are flattish, my potholders are funky, my quilt blocks don't exactly match, and my tank top already has mistakes in it that I'm not going to point out to anyone. Perfection is overrated anyway. Imperfection is far more interesting and within imperfection is the space to learn and grow. I'd much rather have a thousand splotchy funky marigolds than a single "perfect" one.

Pied Beauty
by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.

A little of this, a little of that, and a mushroom shaped like a butt.

I've been having one of those couple of weeks where knitting has kind of fallen to the side, but I have actually been knitting a little bit and I've been doing some sewing as well. I'll come back with photos of my needled shenanigans later. I finished a set of ladybug-themed pot holders that are to be put up in the Etsy shop and did some cutting for a lap-sized or so quilt in purples and pinks and blues. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it, but it's going to be pretty. I may make it bigger than that since I went a little overboard with the cutting, but whatever it ends up looking like, it will be loved, I'm sure. I also embroidered an E. coli in a bluish green on a hanky. I've worked on my travel sock and I started my Lotus Blossom Tank (Ravelry link). I'm concerned about gauge. My swatches lied to me several times, so I just started knitting the smallest size in the recommended needle size and I'm really hoping that it's going to come out to be close enough. I'm also concerned about proportions because it's sized for average types and not for petite types. The straps on tank tops are consistently irksome to me because they're always too long. This makes the neckline lower than I'm comfortable and the whole thing ends up not fitting properly. With any luck, I'll be able to make alterations so that I don't have that problem.

And now for something completely different:
My spaghetti sauce: let me tell you about it.

I make spaghetti for dinner on Sundays. I also make biscuits for breakfast, but I'll get back to that later. Since I learned to make my own sauce, I've reserved the stuff from the jar for occasions when I'm just too tired to cook or too short on time or what have you. By and large, the sauce I make is pretty much homemade from what happens to be available. Sometimes, like last week, I'll have some mushrooms, so in they go. Here's a mushroom piece shaped like a butt.

This week I had some red bell pepper from something I decided not to make, some carrots that were starting to look a little sad, and a fair number of things from the farmer's market. I spent a little too much, but came back with some fantastic stuff. There were green onions and garlic scapes this week as well as wee tiny baby yellow squashes, so all that went in, too. I try to freeze some of the leftovers, which has served as an excellent plan in case there's nothing else to eat in the house and I can tell about what time of year I made it because of what's in it. Kale and carrots means winter. Zucchini, squash, and extra diced tomatoes means mid-summer. Grabbing a container from the freezer and finding late spring or summer inside is like an oregano-infused trip back in time.

Taste the rainbow!

I am in love with summer and the wonderful things this Earth can produce. I love this place and the ground I walk on. So, to the people in charge of Tennessee state law, what is this? And this? Don't we have better things to concern ourselves with than restricting the rights of human beings? I believe we have a budget to balance, hungry people to feed, homeless to care for, streets to keep safe, and many other matters that are far more worth the attention of our legislature. I have seen it said more times than I care to count that Tennessee is stupid or that Tennessee sucks. No. WRONG. Tennessee is wonderful. Tennessee has things like alpaca farms and beautiful hills and Graceland and Johnny Cash and muscadine wine and Dolly Parton and Memphis barbecue and the nice lady that sells the goat cheese, and, y'know, me and this kid.

Ballet dancer and card shark

The clowns in office suck (clowns frighten me and so do these guys). They are doing stupid things. Tennessee is great. Do not malign my state for the terrible things that legislators are doing to it. Instead, watch George Takei being awesome and inspiring people as he calls out the jerkwalters up in Nashville.

That's right, George. You tell 'em.

And now, just so you don't leave here too angry, here's another gratuitous pic of the offspring.

All shall love me and despair!